Curiosities of the Catacombs

In the Catacombs of the 85th Arena, tributes who have the misfortune of gracing these corridors will find a treasure trove of curiosities. They follow:

Courtesy of members not participating in the current Games:



From the 78th - Finley Combe’s bouquet of colourful flowers"
-d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel


A rusted wagon wheel leans on the base of one of the statues. Scratched into its rim is the word “Shaggin.”
-charade


The locule, at first glance, could be mistaken for a patch of sunflowers growing from the stone. In the little space, the bright yellow flowers grow in colorful abundance, looking fresh-faced and sun-kissed, interwoven together with a delicacy that suggests not human handicraft, but that of the fae-folk and otherworldly beings. On a closer look, it is revealed that the stony walls of the locule also bear sunflowers, etched onto them beautifully. The air smells sweet all of a sudden as if a wind that raked through a wildflower meadow has somehow made its way here. Is it a memorial, a shrine, or a vigil? Who are the sunflowers waiting for?
-napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.


A torn piece of a yellowed piece of parchment shows calm, cursive letters across the page:

"... if I die it'll be more honest than I've ever been. More me than I was before. This place has brought us sorrow but let me live. I only wish I'd ever been able to do that with you and mom..." -Travers, d2, 73rd games
-marguerite harvard d2a (zori)


From the 74th and 76th - Two dark grey flat caps with a sharp razor blade sewn in??
-d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel


There is a skull that despite having no facial features seems somehow extremely exasperated. Taped to the top of the skull is a yellowed piece of paper that reads: “For a good time, call Maye”
-charade


At first, they just appear as random dark paint on the wall, but upon closer inspection, what they are supposed to become clear: four silhouettes of dancers, the nimbleness of their feet known even though it is a drawing. They seem to be dancing upwards to a sky unseen, to a song unheard.
-napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.


A giant stone cross with hundreds of toy teddy bears around it, a memorial to all of the young tributes taken before their time in the 65th Quell
-rook


Graffiti on one statue reads: Did you kill Enigma Lane?
-charade


The pile of bones incites unrest, from the way each one is perilously stacked atop another and from the sheer fact that they could have been foraged from something that was once alive. Upon closer examination, there are two bones that appear sharper from the rest, resembling tusks. Hadn't bones akin to these come alive once in a past Games, not under the skin of some warm animal, but in the exoskeleton of a ghostly creature? Hadn't bones akin to these murdered?
-napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.


"Listen, if I die here, I want you to know that it's because I chose to be a part of this. People talk a lot about doing things for glory or to save someone, but I know that what I did was for me. Maybe that's why it's made it easier being here. You know it was a choice and I'm still glad I made it. Just don't bury me when I'm gone. I'd rather have my ashes thrown in Snow's face." Letter to Ether Hertz from Quest Hertz
-marguerite harvard d2a (zori)


A statue of hundreds of hands raised, a symbol of the Capitol at the centre. An ode to the 75th Games.
-rook .


As you round the corner, you find yourself face to face with a powerful looking woman, pale and speckled with freckles. On closer inspection, you realise that it is not a woman but a statue of one, carved carefully from a speckled marble. She stares you down, her eyes wide and open with determination. You swear as you stare into them, you can see the want for blood in her eyes. As you step back, you see that one of her hands is palm up, the marble carved to make it seem like sand is slipping through her fingers. In the other, she holds a long broad sword. A Claymore. At her feet, a chalk board lies blank and grey from years of words written upon it. As you stare in the dark, you can't help but think you see the chalk scar of the word DARIA drawn on its surface.
-ali


The statue is where the sunlight falls the most brilliantly and when it does, its bronze skin becomes dappled with aureate light as if it was sculpted from gold, not bronze. It's of a boy and a rampant lion at his feet, the same matching fierce look in their eyes. The detail put into his hair makes one wonder if the curly strands would actually cascade in the breeze, and woven into those strands is a crown intricately formed, with a lion claw at the very front. As one looks at him more and more, he looks less a boy made out of bronze and more a king trapped in amber, cursed to slumber forever. The plaque underneath the lion reads 'Malachi Le Roux.'
-napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.


From the 84th - The chunky obscured book A Bell’s Messier (Aka Les Miserables) - covered in the blood of Walter Blake and his victims.
-d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel


A statue of a boy six feet tall and strong stares back at you, frozen in time. He is attached to the catacombs, reaching out with his stone hands for yours, hoping that if you pull on them he'll come back out alive, too. His face rests troubled, eyes and mouth wide open, but it's hard to tell why he's so shocked. Perhaps because this mess of a bloodbath has been going on for eighty-five years now, or maybe because he's about to fall victim to something grim. A indent large enough for your fist rests at the statue's stomach with spiders and their cobwebs calling it their home. You follow the statue to its base and see a message etched in for wanderers to see. It reads: "Dmitri Kostas: The First Ever Fallen." You feel unsettled and keep walking past. The first ever fallen, eighty-five years ago now. And judging by everyone here looking over their shoulder, you certainly won't be the last.
-mat


A wooden necklace worn by Pandora Woodards.
-rook


Lying in the dark of a locule that looks lonelier than its neighbors, is an abandoned envelope. It looks crusty around the edges, as if it was drenched in water once, but that isn't the enticing thing about this letter, the blood-stains are. They dot the white envelope, the color of them deep ruby-red. Then, as you move the envelope around and look at it from different angles, it becomes noticeable that the stains are not at random intervals, but perfect rings interloping the envelope in concentric patterns.

Inside, there is no letter.
-napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.


A small black notebook covered in dust, food stains and a hint of garbage lays on the floor of the catacombs. The pages are covered in journal entries of a "Lemon Cake," expressing his thoughts on living with his adopted family in district 12. His chicken scratch handwriting makes his personal stories illegible, but from the readable words, his hatred towards his life and his desire to escape. The entries are sparse, with the time gaps ranging anywhere between a few months and a year. Though it appears that he was consistent enough to write an entry on every birthday since he turned 5, each one done slightly more begrudgingly than the last. The last journal entry is him talking about his entire personal history up to his 18th birthday. Only one entry exists after this: "No matter what happens today, I'm going to be free."
-uwu


a lil potato plant under a heat lamp in a little alcove suspended above water with toothpicks
-uwu gamemaker kelsier


More sunflowers dot the area at random intervals, swaying in the wind. They look fresh, as if they are meant to defy thirst or darkness. As if they are meant to live forever.
-napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.


Various polaroids that past tributes took in the games.
-gamemaker kelsier


Benat Izar's lucky rabbit's paw: a white paw of a rabbit on a simple silver chain. Hopefully this brings more luck to you than it did its owner.
-marguerite harvard d2a (zori)


A massive dragon skull. It looks familiar.
-charade


From the 80th - A urine sample from you know who.
-d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel


Salome Izar's rosary: A set of white beads wrap around with a simple silver chain, with one large bead at the bottom connecting to the silver cross. There's something holy about this - may it bring you luck, or redemption, fair tribute.
-marguerite harvard d2a (zori)


He stands in the corner, away from the light, with an expression of anger on his stony features that, for a moment, appears too dreadfully human - as if he is about to come alive at any given moment. But on the second lock, he is a statue again, a boy that looks less boyish and more feral, more savage, with those wild eyes, bared teeth, and the spear he looks about ready to hurl. Even as one moves away from him, his stone eyes seem to follow, stalking, as if everything and everyone before him is nothing but prey to a merciless hunter. The name plaque underneath him reads, in crude letters, 'Vargen Forrester'.
-napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.


A lone pink lily seemingly preserved rests atop a silver box. To any who draw close enough, a quiet tune churns constantly from the voice within. It is a haunted song of a lost lover who fell into the sea sung by a soft child soprano. The final sound that swells from the silver box is the sound of crashing waves.
-Arrows


In the shadow, something glistens.

At first touch, the object is cool. At first glance, it looks too smothered by the moss growing around it to even be anything significant. When it is brought to the light, however, it takes shape and reveals itself a sleek-looking dagger, the hilt slippery to hold as emerald-colored moss circles it. What the moss doesn't encroach on, is the sunflower etched onto the blade's surface.
-napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.


Pink Crocs with multicoloured croc decals and a pair of sunglasses resting on top.
-gamemaker kelsier